A Joshua tree is a funny thing to behold. With their green spiky new growth at each arm’s end and the shaggy yellow remnants of older growth lower down, they’re like a cross between a palm tree and an agave. (They’re actually a yucca.) Sometimes they seem almost human, especially at dusk, in the wake of a blue, pink and orange high-desert sunset, when they appear to dance joyously, arms all akimbo, like an eruption of shrug emojis. But all is not well for this quirky plant. Of its two species, the western Joshua tree, Yucca brevifolia, is more endangered than the eastern Joshua tree, Yucca jaegeriana. In recent years, millions of both have been lost, killed by fire — the York Fire in 2023 and the Dome Fire in 2020 — and to make way for housing and for solar farms, which are popping up across the Mojave Desert.
Joshua trees were considered twice by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service for listing under the Endangered Species Act, but were denied both times. In 2020, the California Fish and Game Commission accepted the western Joshua tree as a candidate for listing under the state’s own Endangered Species Act. Would that protection be enough? The tree’s habitat largely overlaps with the Mojave, a desert that is experiencing rapid aridification. The annual precipitation in Joshua Tree National Park dropped by 39% from 1895 to 2016, while the average temperature increased by 3 degrees Fahrenheit. By the end of the century, studies show, Joshua trees may no longer be able to survive in their namesake park. Has the speed of change outpaced the ability of environmental laws to make a difference
The Endangered Species Act was written half a century ago, when the primary cause of species endangerment was human interference with ecological systems — dams, development, pesticides, industrial effluent. And while these are still factors, the most momentous human interference — our warming of the atmosphere on a planetary scale — is now a leading cause of ecological harm. As the climate morphs into an angrier and more intense version of its previous self, there are limits to what the ESA can do to save a species — and yet it’s still one of the best tools we have. On the 50th anniversary of the law’s passing, we bring you ESA@50 (p. 16-23), a collection of stories about what the Endangered Species Act was designed to do, what it does well, and what might make it more effective over the next 50 years. As for Joshua trees? My advice is to enjoy their company while you can.
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This article appeared in the print edition of the magazine with the headline For the love of a speices.
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